


'neath the curse of my lover's eyes

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Deepthroating, Demon Dean, M/M, Rape, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:17:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3566003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The right knee of his slacks was torn. Small pebbles and twigs worked their way through the hole, digging into his skin. The forest floor was damp through the thin fabric. The chill mist in the air seeped through his coat. His stolen grace was so diminished that his body ached from being tossed around, and shivered from the cold. He told himself, that he only shivered from the cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'neath the curse of my lover's eyes

The right knee of his slacks was torn. Small pebbles and twigs worked their way through the hole, digging into his skin. The forest floor was damp through the thin fabric. The chill mist in the air seeped through his coat. His stolen grace was so diminished that his body ached from being tossed around, and shivered from the cold. He told himself, that he only shivered from the cold.

Castiel hoped that Sam was still alive.

After Dean had disappeared on a hunt that looked about as normal as a hunt could according to Sam, the younger brother had come to Castiel for his assistance. Weeks of searching later, they hadn’t found Dean.

They found Crowley s body. Maimed and nearly dismembered, Castiel could feel the power of the blade that had killed him lingering in the edges of his wounds.

Castiel and Sam looked harder. Everything else was forgotten in the immediacy of their panic. After weeks, still they did not find Dean.

Cain found them, and Dean was with him.

Castiel was so weakened that the first knight of Hell could throw him around like a child’s doll until he blacked out. He awoke in the forest. He awoke alone.

His first assumption was that Sam had been taken, and he had been discarded. That was incorrect. This was, apparently, a game. A hunt. One which he had no chance of winning.

No, he told himself at first that he did have a chance. He wasn’t strong enough, physically, but perhaps he could be clever.

Castiel had always been good at deluding himself.

Cain wanted Dean to find him. Cain wanted Castiel to fight. He could not overpower the two demons, and so Castiel on being cornered had supplicated himself to Dean and begged his friend to come down from the edge.

He had already leapt off.

The right arm of Cain’s dark coat hung loose and stirred in the breeze. Castiel could feel the thrumming violent heat of the mark burning through the sleeve over his left arm now. Castiel made assumptions to answer his questions but those only multiplied and bred more questions. It wasn’t only Cain’s body that seemed hacked and incomplete. He was unhinged. The air in the space between Cain and Dean had a different frequency as though they were their own singular unit. It made his teeth jar, it made the hair on his arms prickle.

Cain laughed at his appeals to Dean’s humanity. Dean laughed with him. They kicked at Castiel and told him to fight, then whipped him around with their power until he felt the crack of bones fissuring and felt blood trickling down his face. Castiel crumpled in the dirt and they sneered at him.

Dean was lost.

Castiel hoped that Sam was still alive.

It was most likely a sign of his dwindling grace that Castiel was acutely aware of the smell of the forest. Damp leaves and overturned earth, pine and rotting wood. It might be pleasant, if it weren’t drowned under the reek of sulphur.

Cain stooped over him and grabbed him by the hair, pulling him to his knees roughly. Holding his head up with a hand, holding his shoulders down with power, Cain stood behind him while Dean paced in front of him. Dean’s eyes were black as he licked his lips and tapped the first blade against his thigh, regarding Castiel like prey.

Castiel didn’t want to call it such, but he could see Dean’s true face. His demonic visage, blooming. Small horns curling up from his forehead that would twist around his head as his soul warped. The darkness of his eyes shining with hunger. The mottled torn remnants of skin peeling away from bone shining white. Dripping, seeping, black that hissed in the air like steam and wrapped around his head like smoke.

His vessel was as whole and as beautiful as it had been in life. The bright shine of his soul was wrapped in the taint of hell and dimmed to a pinprick that Castiel could barely see.

Dean approached Castiel, extending the blade to press under his chin and tip his face up.

"If you’re going to kill me, then kill me. You’ve no reason to torture me, I have nothing more for you to take."

Dean’s lips curled in a smile, pulling wide enough to bare his teeth.

“Oh but you do.”

Dean flicked the jagged tooth edge of the blade against Castiel’s cheek, a shallow cut from his ear to his lips. The blade split skin like a serrated edge leaving it ragged. It stung as a wisp of grace bled from his body. Castiel turned his head away from Dean and glared at the forest floor.

“I understand now why Crowley wanted to keep me away from you and Sam. He wasn’t trying to protect me. He was protecting the last shred of humanity that I have left, protecting himself, controlling me. I need to cut you out like a disease.”

Castiel tried to pull back from him instinctually, bumping against Cain behind him who only gripped his hair tighter. Dean’s voice was rougher, like everything else about him. Like the smoke had coated his throat and mottled his lungs.

The flat of the blade was dragged down Castiel’s face and caught in the collar of his shirt. Dean turned it inward and wrenched, cutting his shirt open neck to navel. His skin bled where it had nicked him.

"You had Sam before, to take me down, now I’ve got Cain, and I’m going to take what I’ve wanted.”

Dean slashed across his exposed chest suddenly, opening a wide gash. Castiel gasped as he watched the blue white glow of his - not his - grace dissipating upward into the mist of the forest. Blood spilled hot down his stomach but he watched his grace disappear in front of Dean’s face. Castiel couldn’t look in his black eyes.

Crouching in front of him, Dean grasped his chin and forced Castiel to look at him. Castiel shivered, feeling the pulse of blood and the expansion of air in his body. He had been suspended somewhere between angel and human for some time, but he was grasping at the last week tendrils of his grace now, falling further and further the more cuts Dean made on his body with the cursed blade. The more grace seeped from his body, a thing more precious than his blood.

Dean sighed and cupped Castiel’s face more gently. Mocking. He blinked and his eyes were green again. Castiel heard a low simpering whine. It must have been from him. How cruel, though, to show Castiel what he could not save. The vibrant green of Dean’s eyes reflecting all the shades of the forest. Castiel was held captive by them.

Dean smiled at him, a pleased arrogant smiles.

“Raping an angel’s got to be a whole hell of a lot of sins worth.”

Castiel gaped at him, eyes still green, soul black.

“See now, I’m trying to rack up some points. On the fast track you could say.”

“Dean.”

“Gotta admit, I’ve always though about it. Not the raping part. Just, how much it would take to tempt you.”

Castiel’s voice was barely a whisper, “Dean.”

He leaned closer, and Castiel was trapped between him and Cain.

“I always wanted to make you fall, make you mine.”

Castiel closed his eyes. His shoulders were heavy under Cain’s power and he would that the knight might bury him under the earth to end his suffering. It hurt. Listening to Dean. Seeing him like this. It hurt more than the fires of Hell that scorched his wings. It hurt more than the punishment in Heaven for the deed of disobedience. It hurt more than being unmade. It hurt more than Raphael’s blows. It hurt more than the Leviathan’s that shredded his mind. It hurt more than Sam’s pain.

It hurt more than anything physical. He could endure. Castiel was not inured to pain but he was accustomed to it.

This. It hurt his soul. If he had one. Angels are not supposed to have souls, they have Grace. Yet he has been angel, he has been human, he has been other. This hurt the core of his being more profoundly than he knew it could.

The tap tapping of the flat of the bone blade against his cheek made Castiel judder out of his shocked reverie. Dean was standing in front of him, one hand on the blade holding it against Castiel, one hand unbuckling his pants.

“No, no, no, not like this, Dean please.”

Oh but he had wanted. He had coveted. He had lusted. Never, never was it supposed to be like this. Castiel was under no illusion that the ties between he and Dean were anything but gentle. They quarreled, they bloodied each other, they deceived and they lied. Love was not supposed to be like that. Castiel never touched Dean in expression of his love because he felt that they were too dirty. That their hands would curl to fists and they would claw at each. He never. He never wanted that. Not like this.

Jaw clenched, Castiel’s whole body was tensed. Dean turned the blade on him, pressing the edge of it between his lips and forcing it between his teeth. It cut at Castiel’s cheeks, blood wet down the curve of his jaw dripping off his chin. He made his jaw slacken, and Dean slid the blade around to press the tip against Castiel’s tongue.

“Angels belong on their knees, anyway, don’t they.”

Dean smiled when he pulled the blade away, dragging it against Castiel’s lip and replacing it with his erection. Castiel blinked and felt the wetness swelling in his eyes spill down his cheeks.

“Ah ah, keep your eyes open, look at me Cas, fucking look at me!”

Cain still held his head up, a knee pushed to the middle of his back making his spine arch. Dean slipped in the blood of his cheeks that ran in his mouth, pushed hard into him and kept pushing. Castiel gagged and clenched his fists uselessly against his thighs, weighted down and held with invisible power.

Dean used him. Held him down. Violated him. Castiel didn’t want to hear the wet sound, the way Dean panted, the retched gagging when he couldn’t control his own body. Dean forced himself as far as he could go. Castiel’s torn cheeks burned and his throat was scraped raw.

Suddenly he felt his chest start to heave, felt a desperation clawing against the sides of his skull. He couldn’t breathe. Castiel was human enough to need to breathe and he had not noticed before this moment because it had never been taken from him. He whimpered and he tried to thrash. He didn’t want to, didn’t want to give Dean the satisfaction. Or give Cain another reason to hurt him.

He couldn’t breathe. His perception began to blur as his chest ached and there was a distinct pulse in his head that hurt. Dean finally relented, pulling out, smeared red. Castiel felt a sting at the back of his throat, an acrid burn that was foul when he tasted it against his tongue. If there were more than bile in his stomach, it would have been spewed on Dean’s boots.

“You’re just about back to human aren’t you Cas?”

His eyes were black and empty.

“Bet that’s gotta hurt.”

Dean was tracing his jaw with the blade. His free hand was on his erection, still thick, sliding over it. There was dirt on the knees of his jeans that pulled wide around his bow legs.

“It doesn’t hurt as much as the weight of my failure.”

He heard Cain scoffing behind him. What was his purpose here. Was he taking Dean under his wing, as Crowley had done, but for what purpose. It seemed as though he did not want Dean to follow his guidance, so much as he wanted to actualize Dean’s potential and unleash him.

Dean kneeled in front of him again, let his knees drop to the earth as a hand splayed on Castiel’s thigh. It was so warm in the cold, so warm against his weakening near human body. Green eyes stared at Castiel. Castiel focused on the grotesque flickering of his demonic face instead.

A hand slid against the fabric of his slacks, brushing past his own fist still rested there. Castiel looked over Dean’s shoulder. There was a bird with a bright red speck against it’s tail singing from the low branch of a pine tree. It was a lovely song.

Dean palmed at the front of his slacks. Castiel’s knees ached, his ribs were intense points of a peculiar sort of pain that made him breathe shallow, his face was smeared with blood drying sticky. And Dean, he touched so gently. So sweetly. Like Castiel used to imagine he would if they could ever come together without violence and the burden of all the wrongs they’d inflicted on each other.

Castiel felt himself crying again, a broken sob that he tried to bite back. His body reacted to the sure, pleasing way that Dean touched him. He would will it down, if he could. Dean looked at him with a sincerity that Castiel desperately wanted to believe. Dean angled his face closer, kissed Castiel’s cheek like a benediction while his rough stubble scraped the raw wound in the corner of his lips.

“Guess it doesn’t hurt that much huh?”

“Dean. Dean. I - Dean…”

Dean laughed at him. Rocked back on his feet and stood, leaving Castiel reeling.

Cain released his hold, pushing Castiel forward and he fell to the earth. They walked a circle around him, pacing, predators enjoying the weakness of their prey. Castiel pushed himself up on shaking arms, dragged himself forward, fingers in the dirt and head bowed. Cain stopped in front of him and pushed him down with a foot on his shoulder.

There were hands behind him, over his back, his hips, pushing his coat up. Castiel tasted the rot of the earth in his mouth as he squirmed underneath Cain’s heavy boot. His grace was so diminished, the two of them did not even need to use their power to keep him prone. All they needed was brute force.

“Dean please. Stop. Just kill me. Just end it.”

He choked on earth and spit and blood. He choked on air. He choked on his own desperation.

Castiel felt calloused hands rough against his lower back, pushing his shirt up. The ridged teeth of the blade played across his skin without breaking the surface, sliding up against the curve of his back. Castiel stilled, not wishing to spill more blood, more grace. The blade turned down, cut his slacks. The air was cold on his exposed skin, making Castiel shiver.

He told himself, that he only shivered from the cold.

Dean’s body was hot against him, and heavy. Legs pried apart, hips pulled back as he scrabbled uselessly and cried. The sting of the blade cut across his skin and it flowed wetly down the backs of his thighs. Dean’s fingers played in it, swirling across his body and smearing him, collecting it and pushing it into him.

Castiel didn’t know if it was better that they had relinquished their force that held him still so that he might struggle and let his body thrash as it would, or if it was worse that he could realize just how powerless and how hopeless he was.

His body burned when Dean tore into him, his soul fissuring like his bones. He wondered restlessly why Dean wanted to break him in every way imaginable.

Cain pulled his foot off Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel tried to crawl away. Dean’s hands held his hips. Castiel pushed up on his arms, fell, and pushed up. When he raised his head, Cain was kneeling in front of him, watching.

The maw of his demonic face was jagged and restless as it clacked it’s teeth and his eyes were so void that Castiel felt the cold of them palpably, sending dread in waves down his spine. Cain reached his one remaining hand up and pushed his fingers through Castiel’s hair. Mocking. Curious. Soothing. Disdainful.

Castiel felt his body twisting and clenched taut trying to fight but Dean rocked him forward, took anything, took everything. Castiel shivered and clawed at the earth. Cain made a soft shushing noise, like he was calming a child.

"You know what’s it like, don’t you, to slaughter those who looked to you as a leader. To slaughter hoards of innocents. To enjoy it."

“I - I-“

Castiel was incoherent. He could barely piece together the words that Cain spoke to him, much less form his own.

“You are not so different from us.”

Castiel cried out and fell against Cain’s chest as Dean used him roughly, the sound of their bodies too loud to hear the bird song through. Castiel scrabbled and clawed at Cain, pushing away from him.

It was shame that stung his eyes. Despite the betrayal, the trauma, Castiel was ashamed of all the mistaken choices he’d made that had led here. He was guilty.

"Don’t cry angel, it will be over soon. For you."

Cain’s palm bumped his cheek, holding his face up, fingers smearing in the blood, tears, sweat and dirt. Cradling him.

Dean was lost.

Castiel hoped that Sam was still alive.

He knew that he wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Why - why are you - why-”

"This isn’t about you Castiel."

Cain bent himself forward, whispering in Castiel’s ear like it was a secret. Face jostled against Cain’s chest, Castiel gasped, he held his breath, he listened.

"This isn’t about breaking you. This is about breaking him."

Castiel wailed, his arms given out underneath him. He fell to Cain’s lap, who soothed his hair back. Dean shoved into him and ground their bodies together, fingers clawing at Castiel’s hips. It stilled for a brief moment.

Everything stilled. The world.

He heard the sounds of the forest again. The animals in the brush. Distant bird cry fading farther. A stream somewhere off to the left, maybe. The leaves rustling when the wind picked up.

The world stilled. And Castiel knew it had ended. Dean withdrew.

Beaten, bloodied, and defiled, Dean wrenched him to his knees. Castiel tipped his head back, resting against Dean’s hip as he looked up at his friend looming above him. Black eyes shone down at him, and the first blade was brought to his neck.

-

_should you shake my ash to the wind_

_lord forget all of my sin_

_oh let me die where I lie_

_'neath the curse of my lover's eyes_

**Author's Note:**

> title/lyrics from Mumford and Sons song 'Lover's Eyes'


End file.
